


Wine and Diplomacy

by Morpheus626



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, HRBB14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wine from Mirkwood, and a drinking contest to be had in Imladris...how could anything possible go wrong?</p><p>Written for the Hobbit Reverse Big Bang 2014<br/>The artwork which inspired this fic can be found here: http://tinomele-liraiwe.tumblr.com/post/105111126174/here-it-is-the-final-result-of-my-collaboration</p><p>As always, I don't own any of these characters but am merely borrowing them for a time. A big thanks to any and all who read, and if you'd like to come shout at me about Hobbit headcanons or just want to see the fic drabbles on my blog I can be found on tumblr with an open ask box: www.itsalwaysprettiestafterthefall.tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wine and Diplomacy

“By the Valar, what happened last night?” Elrond groaned as he forced his eyes to open and his head to rise from the surface of the table. His head was pounding and he felt utterly out of sorts—and from the sight he got when he finally could bring himself to look around, everyone else in the room was faring about as well. He was the only one still sitting at the long dinner table—everyone else (that were in his line of sight at least) were laid out on the floor, robes in disarray and hair utterly wrecked. The barrels of wine from Mirkwood had been overturned and were clearly completely empty—all ten of them.  


Lindir was the nearest to him, stretched out on the floor whimpering to himself. He perked up slightly at Elrond’s voice however.  


“My lord we…we may have made a few mistakes last night.” Lindir mumbled as he sat up and leaned against the leg of the dinner table.  


Elrond looked out upon the room again and realized that Lindir was understating things by just a bit. “I remember…not much after the party from Mirkwood arrived. Lindir, please tell me you remember more.”  


Lindir grimaced as he fussed with his tangled hair. “I recall King Thranduil bringing out a good few barrels of their most potent wine, and there are a few events between there I can recall but…” he shrugged. “Not much else is very clear.”  


“I can recall a few things…give me a moment to find my balance…eventually.” A shirtless Thranduil whimpered from the floor.  


Elrond moaned and let his head fall back to the table. He hadn’t done anything like this since he was very young, and now he remembered why. He could only hope they’d only managed to destroy the dining room, rather than taking their drunken destruction all through the Last Homely House, and hoped that their few combined memories of the previous night wouldn’t reveal too much mess and ruin…  


Hours earlier  


“Lord Elrond, this welcome is hardly necessary. We’re only here to discuss the state of things, not celebrate anything in particular.” King Thranduil shouted as his company rode into the safety of Rivendell. The trip from Mirkwood had been long and arduous, but it hardly merited the full welcome party that was there to greet them.  


Lord Elrond stood with his children behind him and a good number of his staff and residents including Glorfindel, Erestor, Lindir, and the man known as Estel were beside him. All wore some manner of finery and made Thranduil feel as though he and his folk were horribly under-dressed, even if they had been riding for days on end.  


“We would be ashamed to welcome any guests with any less than those we have here. Besides, it isn’t often we see any from your kingdom here—it’s become a bit of a topic of gossip in the last few weeks. Particularly regarding the wines your household is fond of.” Elrond said to Thranduil as the company from Mirkwood dismounted their horses and began to unpack their things.  


Thranduil smiled at the mention of the wine. He’d only brought it with to settle such rumors—and to perhaps prove that Mirkwood elves could outdrink the elves of Rivendell in a heartbeat. But that would remain to be seen, of course.  


His company was led away to their rooms by Lindir, and the rest of the welcoming party slowly dispersed (though Thranduil noted that Estel, Arwen, and the twins had been rather reluctant to leave their father’s side—he imagined they might have had a hand in starting the rumors regarding the visit.)  


“If you wish, we did have a dinner planned with a small tour for those of your company who are visiting for the first time—a bit boring for those who’ve been here before, but if some would rather roam the halls on their own, they are more than welcome to.” Elrond said as he led Thranduil to the rooms reserved for visiting royalty and other persons of importance. The walls of the rooms were covered in tapestries and artwork, all of it breath-taking to most—but Thranduil had no eyes for it now. Not when he knew that a challenge lay in wait.  


“Food will be quite welcome. But perhaps the tour could wait for another night; I have a more interesting proposition for the evening.” Thranduil smirked as Elrond raised an eyebrow in question.  


“Might this have something to do with the wine and the rumors?” He laughed, casting a furtive glance at Thranduil.  


“It does indeed. Do you recall the drinking game we played at, the last time we met?” Thranduil was grinning now. The game had already started; there was no way Elrond would refuse this—not after he’d been so badly beaten the last time.  


“I do recall it. I also recall a large number of broken dishes and bottles, and that Gil-Galad and your father threatened to have us strung up by our toes if we ever drank like that again.” Elrond trod as carefully as he could over the mention of Gil-Galad and Oropher. It had been a great deal of time since the last war, since the loss of both elves—but he could not deny that both he and Thranduil had been a great deal less-stressed and perhaps happier in those previous years. Then again, they’d had far less responsibilities then they did now, and could afford to drink as they had, with such reckless abandon.  


Thranduil’s smile twitched and fell for a moment at the mention of his father, but he recovered himself quickly. “Well, they are not here. We are in charge now, and I think a rematch is in order. Wouldn’t be the worst thing to pass on to our young ones either; a bit of good-mannered competition…”  


Elrond smiled and shook his head. “Alright. But we’ve got to set ground rules this time—we stay in the dining room, and the children stop as soon as they struggle to stand. The Valar know Estel and the twins will try to out-drink one another if we don’t stop them.”  


“They’re all old enough to know better, to keep their heads above water. Why stop them?” Thranduil muttered as Legolas came jogging through the doorway suddenly, his father’s trunk and bags gathered up in his arms. He dropped them at Thranduil’s feet with a smile, then darted back down the hall to where the twins, Estel, and Arwen were waiting for him.  


“Because, as you can see, they are still young enough to make very bad decisions or to do things without thinking” Elrond knelt down to help Thranduil retrieve his bags. “And more importantly, Arwen would have them beat in a minute.”  


Thranduil looked surprised. “Really? She’s a bit younger I thought…”  


Elrond shook his head. “Her age is no hindrance—she’s got a good deal of her mother in her. The Valar know how the Lady and Lord disliked seeing Celebrían challenge myself or anyone else with drink, but she could hold her wine better than anyone else I’ve seen.”  


“Even me?” Thranduil mused.  


“Even you.” Elrond said, standing and heading for the doorway. “Simply search out Lindir once you all are ready for dinner. He’ll likely be patrolling the halls anyways, what with the children running about, so he should be easy enough to find.”  


As it would turn out, Elrond had not exaggerated just how easy it would be to find Lindir. The bard had been pacing the halls of the guest rooms hours before the arrival of the Mirkwood elves, doing his best to ensure that nothing was out of place, and also pondering at what point in all his years at Imladris he had managed to go from ‘bard’ to ‘Lord Elrond’s personal assistant.’  


Thranduil gave him even less time to ponder this however, as it was Lindir who was put in charge of moving the barrels of wine, and ensuring they made their way to the kitchen without being waylaid by anyone else.  


“See to it none of the children get to it either—we’ll need it all for tonight.” Thranduil was practically bouncing as he followed Lindir and the other elves helping them move the barrels down the halls to the kitchen. He was stupidly over-excited for this, and he knew it, but it had been literally ages since he’d gotten to relax like this and indulge in something as silly as a drinking game. More importantly, he fully intended on winning. Elrond could certainly hold his own, but he couldn’t match a Mirkwood elf when it came to drinking, and Thranduil was more than prepared to prove that.  


Lindir, for his part, stayed silent as the wine barrels were set up in a line near the dining tables, thinking only of how much potential damage there might be to clean in the morning.  


For now, however, things were quiet. Everyone arrived to dinner more or less on time; though Legolas, Estel, the twins, and Arwen all chose to arrive in the dining area via a tree they had decided to climb for reasons that remained unknown. But they were all smiling and laughing, and that was a welcome enough sight for everyone, so the intrusion was calmly ignored.  


Once the majority of the dining party had dispersed, Thranduil decided it was time to start the contest, if any of them wished to see a bed before the sun had risen fully the next day.  


“I’m sure all of you are aware by now that a drinking game is to be held. If you wish to participate you may, but it is not required. However, for those younger than myself and Lord Elrond who are still present, we are implementing a limit on the wine.” Thranduil grinned as he heard Legolas sigh dramatically and knew his son was rolling his eyes at the rule.  


“The same rules as before, I presume? Unless you don’t think you can keep up to them anymore.” Elrond taunted from his seat, gently pushing his empty glass forward to be filled. Lindir stepped in from the corner of the room and took the glass to fill it, but was surprised when Elrond grabbed his wrist.  


“Lindir, why don’t you join us? Only if you wish to, of course.” Elrond took a new glass from one of the cooks that had come by to replenish the table with clean wine glasses, and offered it to Lindir.  


Both Thranduil and Elrond grinned as Lindir looked at the glass for a moment, then took it with a nod and a small smile as he sat at the table near Elrond. The drinking game had been fun so many years back, even though it had been just them, but it would be much more interesting with more people involved.  


Thranduil moved to fill his own glass as he outlined the rules. “The same rules: we talk about and try to remember as much of our history, both personal and otherwise as best we can. If you forget a name of an elf, a sip of your wine. Forget the name of a man or woman, down half of the glass. Forget the name of a dwarf, drink a whole glass. Because an elf will forgive a forgotten name, but a dwarf will ensure you never hear the end of it if you cannot recall their entire genealogy.”  


Elrond laughed outright at that. “You mean, there is one particular dwarf who gave you such issue. And I should say I know more than a few elves who would take such offense at anyone forgetting their name, or the name of their ancestors going back to the Second Age. That rule is still ridiculous by my view, but it should stand as it did before.”  


Thranduil put that particular memory out of his mind as took his seat at the table, now with a full glass of wine. “And so the rule will stand. Going on: if you forget the name of a battle, two glasses. If you can actually recall what particular bad decision started a battle, then you drink three glasses—only because there’s no way anyone in their right mind can keep that straight without having a book on said battles in front of them, and you’ll clearly want to forget that knowledge.”  


“Are you trying to lose, friend? I spend my days studying all of those old battles—and the decisions that led to them. Should I give you my glass now, so you don’t have to refill yours as much?” Elrond said, sitting up confidently in his chair.  


“Ah, but you’ve forgotten the other rule of this game—if the person remembers the name of the person or battle, then the rest of us finish off a half a glass and they don’t have to drink. Do you think your years of study will really be enough to keep this rule from being your downfall again?” Thranduil mused, enjoying not just moment of slight panic on Elrond’s face, but the faces of pure panic on their children. Lindir, strangely enough, seemed completely unperturbed, but was clearly amused by the whole thing.  


“Let’s get started then. Thranduil, why don’t you see how well your son’s memory is?” Elrond said.  


Legolas looked to Thranduil, pleading with a look for an easy question. Thranduil knew that wasn’t necessarily fair however, and was thumbing through his mind for a question that would likely be difficult, but not impossible for Legolas to answer when Tauriel suddenly bounded into the room. She’d accompanied them as a member of their personal guard, and had been given the night off, but clearly didn’t think much of that order as she took the empty seat next to Arwen, an empty glass already held in her hand.  


“With your permission King Thranduil, I think I have a question Legolas could answer.” Tauriel’s eyes were bright and happy, and he couldn’t deny her this bit of fun.  
She might have been a bit overtly zealous to some, but she was one of the best guards they had and knew her trade well. More importantly, she’d been a good friend to Legolas, and to top it all off knew her history fairly well. She was still young enough to have the drinking limit put on her, but it couldn’t hurt to have another Mirkwood elf in their corner.  


Thranduil motioned for her to go ahead, and Tauriel turned to Legolas.  


“Name your grandfather’s last battle. You have to recall this one; we were just reading about it not that long ago.” Tauriel left unnamed the other reason that Legolas should recall it so easily—that Thranduil had drummed the history of his father into Legolas’ head early on, adamant that if he died and Legolas ever became king then he would know the mistakes of the past, so that he might not make any similar ones.  


Legolas smiled confidently. “The Battle of Dagorlad. Far too easy, I hope you’ll come up with something more difficult if you’re going to sit in with us.”  


“Don’t get too far ahead of yourselves.” Elrond warned. “Once you elflings are struggling to sit upright, you’re getting cut off. Lindir can’t drag all of you to bed, and might not be able to drag himself depending on how the night goes.”  


Lindir smirked, but said nothing as he went over to a wine barrel and filled one of the empty carafes from the table with wine, and passed it to everyone else with an empty wine glass. “I think this means the rest of us drink then—a half a glass, was it?”  


Thranduil nodded, and they all tipped their glasses to their faces as Legolas looked on. What followed after were several minutes of spluttering and coughing at the strength and taste of the wine.  


“It tastes like a healing potion gone bad.” Estel muttered, staring at his wine glass and the rest of the wine in it as though it had done him some great personal insult.  


“No potion could go this bad.” Arwen said, setting her glass aside and struggling not to stick her tongue out at the taste.  


The twins fared no better, both screwing up their faces at the taste but attempting to smile nonetheless. Even Elrond and Thranduil were left coughing, both having forgotten just how potent this particular wine could be if it were forgotten in a wine cellar for a good number of years (which was precisely what Thranduil had done, though not intentionally.)  


“Well, that could have gone worse. Congratulations to all for not spitting it out.” Thranduil said, swishing the remaining wine in his glass about.  


Elrond raised an eyebrow. “Just how long have these barrels been in your cellar?”  


Thranduil started to turn a bit red. “Well, my wife and I got these as a wedding gift, there were nearly twenty then, and we drank a good number of those before Legolas was born—these ten casks were all that were left after that, so…they’ve only been sitting in the cellar since Legolas’ birth then, that’s not a horribly long amount of time, not really.”  


Everyone went silent and looked curiously at their glasses.  


“I’m drinking wine that’s older than you are—older than both of us. I didn’t think we had anything quite that old in the cellars anymore.” Tauriel mused to Legolas, breaking the silence. “Well, except when our dear King is standing in the cellar, of course.”  


Thranduil gave her a glare for that, but she only smiled back at him.  


“Well then. Legolas, why don’t you ask the next question—can be anyone here, any topic.” Thranduil said.  


Legolas turned towards Estel and smiled. “What was my grandfather’s name?”  


The question was clearly asked more to challenge Estel and whatever lessons he’d been given over the years by Elrond, but he did not disappoint.  


“Oropher. Another question that was far too easy.” Estel passed the carafe down the table from Lindir to Legolas, and grinned as he watched everyone refill their glasses and drink again, with slightly less coughing and spluttering afterwards.  


“Alright this is silly. We can’t keep asking such easy questions—so Arwen, name the seven sons of Feanor.” Elrond said. He knew full well she hadn’t studied all of the seven sons in detail yet, but he knew she would still have a chance at naming most of them.  


“Ada, I thought you said we shouldn’t ask anymore easy questions!” Arwen smiled, then recited: “Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, and Amras.”  


She smiled even wider as Elrond laughed, happily handing over his glass to be refilled by Lindir, who had gotten up and filled the other three carafes at the table with wine, now that it was obvious they would need all of them in order to keep playing so quickly.  


The wine was starting to seem a bit smoother now, though if any of them had been asked they wouldn’t have been able to say whether it was because the wine’s acquired taste was growing on them or if they were actually already feeling a bit drunk.  


Thranduil knew it was strong enough to easily get them drunk however, though he was counting on Elrond forgetting that particular fact and relying on the Elf in his blood to help keep his wits about him.  


“Thranduil! Name the entirety of the line of Durin!” Elrond yelled from the other end of the table.  


Thranduil shot him a look. “You know I can’t.”  


“Precisely.” Elrond was grinning like a cat that had caught the canary.  


“How many drinks is that then?” Thranduil muttered, trying to drag up the names of the dwarves in his head, and failing miserably at doing so.  


“Let’s cap it at five, so we have a bit of wine left for the rest of us.” Elrond said, and passed the carafe nearest him down the table to Thranduil.  


Everyone watched first laughing, but then in amazement as Thranduil tossed back glass after glass with little issue. The wine stung his throat, but it was worth it to see everyone look so impressed, and to prove to himself that he still had the ability to do so. After all, it truly had been a long while since he’d drank so recklessly.  


Things got a bit wilder from there. Both Thranduil and Elrond managed to finish off a cask on their own (with a bit of help from Lindir), and Estel was forced to duck out of the competition and head to bed after he toppled out of his chair. Arwen and Tauriel still seemed to doing well, by the drunken approximations of Elrond and Thranduil, but Legolas was clearly nearing his limit—and the twins were nearly too giggly and drunken to answer questions.  


This led to the suggestion that perhaps Elrond should give them all a tour of Imladris right then and there, despite the fact that no one in the Mirkwood Company who would actually need the tour was present.  


“This particular painting here it…um…well, it is quite nice. I like it. Do you like it Thranduil?” Elrond yelled as he led their stumbling troupe down the hall.  


All of them had abandoned their glasses and were now in possession of their own carafe of wine, after Lindir had gone and retrieved more from the kitchen. No more questions were being asked, and instead they all simply drank as they wished—Thranduil didn’t think he could manage to answer anything complicated anyways, and found it quite clear that Elrond certainly couldn’t.  


“The picture is lovely—ours in Mirkwood are better, of course, but this one isn’t bad.” Thranduil trotted up the hall to walk by Elrond, nearly tripping on both of their robes as he struggled to come to a stop.  


A thud and cacophony of laughter stopped them in their tracks, and they turned to see Arwen and Tauriel in a pile on the floor.  


“I tripped.” Tauriel giggled, kicking her boots playfully against the floor. Arwen pushed Tauriel off of her and pulled them both to their feet, giggling just as hard.  


“We should go to….we should…” Arwen started, but dissolved into laughter again as she stared at Tauriel.  


Elrond shoved his carafe into Thranduil’s hand as he stumbled over to them, ignoring the wine they’d spilt on the floor. “Bed, you two go to bed. And take Elrohir and Elladan with you—where are they?”  


“They fell behind awhile back. I sent them to bed, or to the nearest couch they can reach. Wherever they get to first.” Lindir shrugged his shoulders and took another drink from his carafe, and leaned heavily against the wall.  


“Legolas, you ought to head in as well.” Thranduil muttered as he swallowed another mouthful of wine.  


Legolas shook his head. “I’m fine; we can keep going, really…” He trailed off as a moonbeam flowing into the hall caught his eye.  


Thranduil passed both his and Elrond’s carafes into Lindir’s hands and went to pick his son up off the floor, where’d he slowly slid from his original position of leaning into the wall.  


“Come on. It’s just like when you were an elfling, and were too tired to put yourself to bed.” Thranduil murmured as he slung Legolas’ arm across his back started to walk them both towards the guest quarters.  


“Except I’m drunk now.” Legolas hiccupped.  


“Well, yes, there’s that difference. Otherwise, it’s just the same.” Thranduil declared, as he strode forward, wishing desperately that the patterns of the carpet would stop moving as he walked.  


It took longer than Thranduil wanted it to, but eventually he got Legolas to the room set aside for him, and left him splayed on his side in the bed. It took him even longer then to get back to Elrond and Lindir, who had kindly stayed and waited for him in the hall and finished off the rest of the wine in all of the carafes.  


“You know what we ought to do?” Elrond mused as Thranduil slid to the floor beside them. “We ought to go out and see the falls—they’re lovely right now; the moon makes them look fantastic—“  


Lindir groaned. “I don’t know about that. They are beautiful but…well, the floor keeps moving and…”  


Elrond reached past Thranduil to pat Lindir gently on the back. “You stay here then, and get to bed if you can. If not, we’ll help you when we get back. Promise. Just try not to vomit on the floor, if you can manage it.”  


With that, Elrond clambered to his feet and pulled Thranduil up. “This’ll be worth it, I promise. You barely ever visit, so you’ve got to see them while you’re here.”  


They traipsed their way down the halls, managing the stairs one at a time and doing their best to be quiet despite how funny the situation seemed. Finally, they were on the path towards the bottom of the falls, where they could get a good view of the entirely of the site.  


“You were right, it is beautiful.” Thranduil murmured as they stood near the falls, with the spray of the waters just inches away from them.  


“It is. But I’m sure the forest is beautiful at night as well. Perhaps when the twins are older I can leave them Imladris for a bit, and come see Mirkwood again.” Elrond said.  


Thranduil scoffed. “It isn’t what it once was. I would have you see it when it was as beautiful as before—but your company would happily accepted, should you wish to journey their nonetheless. Then I can try and beat you in the matter of hospitality as well.”  


“Do you think you can?” Elrond asked, a small smile on his face.  


Thranduil shook his head. “Likely not. The spiders tend to make a bad first impression. But I can certainly try, can’t I?”  


Elrond laughed. “You can.”  


They stood there for a bit in silence, occasionally wavering on their unsteady feet, letting themselves drift in their heads as they stared at the falls. It had all been fun and games, but in truth this visit was much more important than either of them would or could admit—they’d not always been the friendliest to one another in diplomatic matters after the war. Sure, they’d been polite, but Thranduil had become somewhat reclusive and wary of others, even other elves, and Elrond had been preoccupied with the care of Imladris, and his children and Estel—time for old friends and renewing relationships simply hadn’t existed for a good while. They’d not even bothered to see each other face to face at all until now.  


“It has been good to see you again.” Thranduil broke the silence as he turned to look back at the Last Homely House, which seemed perfect and comforting even from the outside.  


“And good to see you. We’ll have to try for more visits like these—better that our children should learn actual diplomacy, rather than our poor attempts in the past.” Elrond murmured as he followed Thranduil’s gaze.  


“Seems a bit too quiet, doesn’t it?” Elrond mused.  


Thranduil nodded. “Much too quiet. I’m willing to bet none of them are in their beds…”  


Elrond nodded and began the walk back up the path to the house, with Thranduil on his heels. Their minds had begun to clear just slightly as they walked, and their steps became more sure as they rushed through the halls in search of Lindir and the children—all of whom were not in their rooms, but were not littered in the halls thankfully.  


As they neared the dining room, it became quite clear where everyone had congregated, and from the loud sounds coming from the room it was likely that everyone else in Imladris was aware of that as well. Elrond was already horrified at the thought of everyone else being woken up. He’d wanted them to enjoy the night, of course, but now that sobriety was returning to him he found that they may have enjoyed it a bit too much.  


“Take it off!” was the shout that greeted Elrond and Thranduil as they entered the dining room. The words belonged to an even more heavily inebriated Tauriel and Arwen sitting at the table, who were urging Legolas to remove his top—which he did without a second thought.  


“Hello Ada! We decided to stay awake for a bit longer.” He smiled as he tossed his tunic to Thranduil, who caught it with a shocked look on his face.  


“There was a bit of wine left!” Lindir crowed from where he was laid out on the floor, his words bumbling as he said them through a mouthful of carpet.  


“Fantastic.” Thranduil and Elrond deadpanned together.  


“This is why I said we should have a cut-off point for them; this is what I was afraid of!” Elrond said as he strode forth and snatched the carafes of wine that Tauriel and Arwen held.  


“Rude.” Arwen muttered as she leaned against Tauriel and yawned.  


Elrond raised an eyebrow. “I am your father, and I am keeping you from drinking yourself into the next Age, and you’ll thank me for it tomorrow.”  


“Did you get permission from Gil-Galad to use his old lines, or is that just coincidence?” Thranduil asked as he pulled Legolas over to him and shoved the tunic over his son’s head.  


“Consider it inspiration.” Elrond said. “Can’t beat what your father said.”  


Thranduil laughed. “No. Nothing can beat being told that an orc is more honorable when drunk than you are. Though, I still don’t think that’s true— if nothing else, we’re still much prettier when we’re drunk.”  


“True.” Elrond said as he attempted and failed to lift Lindir from the carpet. “I think he’s more comfortable down there.”  


They turned to Tauriel and Arwen again, only to find them tossing off all of their clothes except their small-clothes.  


“Girls, why…” Thranduil muttered as he watched various garments fly past his head.  


“Not comfortable to sleep in all of our clothes.” Tauriel murmured as she wrapped an arm around Arwen, who snuggled into the embrace.  


Elrond placed a hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. “Let them be. We can leave a note for Glorfindel or someone to keep anyone from this room till we’ve woken—“  


“Already taken care of.” Estel said as he crawled from under the table.  


Elrond shook his head. “You couldn’t have stayed in bed?”  


“Not after they came and pulled me out of bed. Besides, tonight has been fun—though my head really is starting to hurt…but I left a note for Glorfindel already. I tried to be concise…”  


Elrond helped Estel to stand. “I’m sure you did fine. So long as we have a chance to recover, and remember, in the morning before we face anyone else.”  


Estel nodded, and promptly flopped back onto the floor. “Check the closet for Elladan and Elrohir—they said we were being too loud and they needed to hide.”  


Elrond rolled his eyes, but moved to check the closet that was just before the dining room entryway—and sure enough, a snoring Elladan and Elrohir rolled out.  


“Just leave them. They’re out cold—and we should be as well.” Thranduil retrieved the carafes Arwen and Tauriel had been using, and passed one to Elrond.  


Elrond shook his head. “I think we’ve had our fill.”  


“Oh there’s what—maybe a cup in each of these? We may as well. I’ll certainly not see it go to waste.” Thranduil said, then tipped the carafe back and drained it.  


Elrond sighed and did the same, wincing slightly at the sharpness of the wine. “Well then. We should try and sleep…but I don’t think we ought to leave the children here while we traipse off to our rooms.”  


“And we won’t leave them.” Thranduil murmured as he pulled his robes off till he was down his tunic and trousers. After a moment of contemplation, he pulled the tunic off as well, and bundled it up for a pillow.  


“We could try and sleep in the chairs.” Elrond suggested.  


Thranduil sighed as he settled onto the floor. “No. I’m fine here. I’d only likely fall out of the chair—but do what you wish.”  
Elrond considered his options as he listened to Thranduil’s breath slow in sleep, and finally chose a chair for himself. He sincerely hoped they might have some memory of the night when they woke, otherwise he wasn’t sure how he would describe the scene Glorfindel would be walking in on that morning…but that could wait till the morning, and his head was pounding, and sleep was calling. He was more than happy to finally close his eyes. 

The morning  


“So…not as bad as I thought we would do.” Elrond muttered.  


They all were gathered around the table now, awake and more-or-less dressed, feeling the after effects of their night of fun.  


“At least we kept things decently clean in the rest of the house.” Lindir said. “That’s less for me to clean up then.”  


“Please stop talking. Just, don’t say anything, ever again.” Tauriel muttered as she massaged the sides of her head.  


A general appraisal of the room showed that all were struggling about as much—hands were raised to temples, and every now and again someone would take their turn glaring at the chirping birds outside.  


“Well. Who won then?” Thranduil asked his voice sharp and blunt.  


Everyone exchanged glances.  


“I don’t think anyone won.” Estel said.  


“Agreed.” Arwen echoed.  


“If this is the prize, then I don’t want it.” Legolas whimpered.  


Elladan and Elrohir merely nodded, though they went a bit green at having moved their heads so much.  


“A tie then. I can live with a tie.” Elrond said.  


“As can I. Besides, there’s always next time…” Thranduil grinned.  


“For the love of…I did not fight a Balrog only to see this.” Glorfindel said from the doorway. “You couldn’t even manage to get dressed properly…I mean it’ll be afternoon before we know it and I can’t keep everyone away forever. Get yourselves to bed, use the hall here—I’ll make sure it is kept clear.” He shook his head in disappointment as he walked away.  


After a beat of silence, Thranduil broke down into a fit of laughter.  


“I’ve not seen him that disgruntled in ages. And all we had to do was over-indulge.” He gasped.  


Elrond tried and failed to suppress a grin. “You think he’d not judge so harshly…he’s not exactly a picture of sobriety himself, though I suppose none of us can claim that title ourselves.”  


There was another fit of laughter before they managed to drag themselves out of the dining room to their bedrooms, and though they were dizzy and exhausted it was worth it.  


The rest of the Mirkwood Company’s visit was rather uneventful, and compared to the first night Thranduil would even have called it boring. But Elrond’s hospitality was top notch, and Thranduil and his company were able to relax as they couldn’t at home amongst the trees and spiders, and that was enough. They left on good terms, with a promise from Elrond to Thranduil that the drinking game should be played again when next one of them visited the other—but perhaps the amount of wine should be lessened, if only so that they could not so horrendously do in their heads by the morning. It went unspoken, but both looked very forward to the next visit—and to the next chance to try and win the game.


End file.
